Maybe It's Better This Way
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This chapter celebrates the return of Em. It's purely selfish – I need her help lol!
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Chapter 12: Night Times
Sandy crept in late that night, guilty for staying at the office but unable to face her. It hurt to see her so depressed and he could only take being pushed away for so long. He hopped lightly over the creaky step in the stairs to their room and silently cursing the door as it groaned open. Kirsten was already in bed, eyes closed and the covers drawn up to her chin. Her husband paused to look at her, smiling as he thought wistfully of other nights. Nights when she'd be lying in a similar fashion; bed clothes pulled up so only her eyes, dancing dangerously, peeped over the top. Those nights he'd usually find her naked beneath the sheets or hiding some new lingerie. Tonight however her eyelids barely flickered as he came in, the dark circles around her eyes obvious beneath the lashes that rested there. She wasn't asleep; he knew her better than that. Neither of them could sleep alone but Sandy made more of pretence; 'I had to finish reading this,' he'd say when she came in late, tapping the file of a case that wasn't due to be heard for months. She would smile and slide in next to him, knowing full well what he meant and loving him for it. He knew better than to bring urgent cases home; Kirsten was too much of a distraction when she finally arrived.
Once he was in bed Kirsten rolled forcefully towards him and buried herself in the welcome arms. 'Hey sweetie,' Sandy said, revelling in being allowed to hold her close; who knew how long this current fit of clinginess would last. 'You okay?' He knew it was a stupid question.
She nodded against his chest but he could feel the irregularity as she breathed against him and knew she was the closest to tears she'd been all week.
'You want to talk?'
A vigorous headshake.
''Kay.' Sandy didn't press her, leaning over to turn out the light before settling with his wife who was soon asleep, one hand grasping his shirt to make sure he couldn't move away.
She didn't stay so peaceful all night. In the early hours Sandy was roused by a quiet whimper and found Kirsten thrashing about in her sleep, tossing one way then the other. 'No!' she mumbled, 'No, no, no, no.'
'It's just me baby,' he said softly.
'Sandy!' he heard her say, but it wasn't a reply. 'Sandy, please, please Sandy,' she was begging now and he had no idea what for. He reached across, avoiding her flailing arms, and ran a soothing hand down her cheek; a gesture he knew would wake her. Sure enough her eyes opened groggily, 'Sandy?' she whispered, her heart pounding loudly in her chest.
'I'm here.'
The sound of the low, familiar voice was pure comfort to Kirsten. She tangled her fingers between those at her cheek, trying not to hold too tightly.
'What were you dreaming?'
'I-I don't remember.'
Sandy sighed. 'It's gonna be okay,' he said into the darkness.
'What's if it's not Sandy? What then?' Kirsten asked hysterically, sitting up amidst the tangle of bedclothes. In the strip of light coming in between the blinds Sandy could see her eyes were filled with panic.
'What if I can't get over this? I can't eat, I can't think straight, I can't function. I don't want to do anything; it just all seems so pointless. What if I can't stop thinking like this?'
Her husband slid his arms around his wife and rocked her gently, 'You will honey, I promise. I won't let this break you.'
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The following night he was woken again but this time it was different. With a strange subconscious knowledge Sandy sensed Kirsten was no longer beside him. The emptiness in his arms woke him and he sat up suddenly.
'Kir?' he called out gently.
No answer. The expanse of bed was cool beside him and he realised she must have been up a while. He tried not to panic as he tiptoed down the stairs and was relieved to see her outline in the dim light. Kirsten was wandering around the house, pausing to straighten pictures, deadheading flowers, peeping through curtains and staring into space. Her movements were so languid and seemingly involuntary that he wondered whether she was sleepwalking. No, he decided, it was just that her mind was elsewhere.
She paused, gazing out across the ocean from the patio doors and he could hear her singing softly. Recognising the tune of an old lullaby she had once sung to Seth he crossed the room and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Startled she turned to him, her eyes a dark fearful blue. 'S-sa-andy?'
'It's ok, only me.'
'Only you,' she breathed.
He eyed her anxiously, she looked feverish. 'Shall we go back to bed sweetheart?'
She shook her head like a child.
'But…'
'Shh!' Kirsten told him, 'do you hear that?'
Sandy listened but there was no sound, 'No honey.'
'I could hear…I thought I could hear…' she trailed off as though in a trance, her eyes distant, body tensed; listening, waiting.
'Kirsten?' he asked nervously.
There was no response.
'Kirsten!' he added a note of authority to his voice.
Something clicked and her eyes came back into focus, 'Sometimes I hear her crying,' she said simply before turning and going back upstairs.
Sandy stood at the window for a long time. His wife was more hurt than they thought; could they ever bring her back?
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Another night a day or so later Sandy woke up to find Kirsten gone again. When she wasn't sat staring out of the window, as had become her custom late at night when she couldn't sleep after staying in bed most of the day, or in the bathroom, the kitchen or the living room he began to feel uneasy. He drew blanks in the rest of the house, Seth's room and Ryan's included. He couldn't find her outside; the pool house was empty now Ryan was in the house, and was on the point of complete panic when he noticed a scrap of paper on the counter.
At the beach. Don't worry and don't follow me.
Kirsten
Fool. Of course he was going to worry. It was the middle of the night, it was dark, she was depressed. The beach? What was she thinking? The fact that he himself found the beach and the ocean a soothing location or that she had asked him not to come did nothing to stop him immediately following her.
There was a three-quarters moon and on pausing as he reached the length of private beach, he could see the desolate figure as she walked up and down. First one way, then the other. Backwards and forwards along the sand, again and again and again.
After a while he noticed she had wandered much closer to the water's edge than before and he could see the foam of the waves lapping at her feet. She was going to catch cold at this rate but still he didn't move; this was Kirsten's time; he probably shouldn't have come but equally he couldn't stay away. Suddenly he saw her stop and then take a few steps into the ocean, his heart thumped its way up his chest into his throat. She wasn't…? No, she'd never…she wouldn't…god forbid he'd failed her so badly she wanted to… No, his mind was running away with him, even if she ever did it wouldn't be in the ocean; Kirsten and salty water full of fish and weeds? No way. All these thoughts ran like an express train through Sandy's head, even as he was hurrying over the sand to where he wife was standing motionless staring out across the black ocean. She didn't hear his approach until he splashed into the water beside her.
'I told you not to come,' she said without turning round.
'And you really thought that would stop me?'
She heaved a shaky sigh, 'Go home Sandy.'
'No.'
She turned away and resumed her path along the beach. Sandy followed, 'You can do this all night but I'm doing it with you,' he said, matching his steps to hers. They continued like this for a long while, simply walking, side by side, in silence. Some time later Sandy heard her shallow breathing waver and in the moonlight he saw the first of her tears fall from her brimming eyes and trickle down her cheeks. He reached for her hand and was surprised when she didn't pull away. Still not saying anything they continued to walk along the beach, Kirsten taking comfort from the warm hand around her own. It couldn't stop the tears though and soon they became streams rather than trickles and her breath caught in her chest making her shoulders shake. Sandy stopped and drew her towards him, circling her small frame in a tight embrace and feeling each of the sobs that wracked it tug at his own heart. He murmured terms of endearment, he mumbled into her hair, he rambled soothing nonsense, but Kirsten continued to cry brokenly against him. He wittered, he prattled, he burbled, he babbled, he blathered and gibbered and gabbled; anything to calm the growing hysteria.
'It's all my fault,' she choked as the storm subsided through pure exhaustion.
Sandy placed his hand beneath her chin and tilted her head to look at him, 'No it's not,' his voice was firm but Kirsten was beyond listening or thinking rationally.
She shook her head. 'I'm to blame and you must hate me for it.'
'Wrong again, not possible. If you're going to blame anyone blame Caleb for upsetting you, for giving you too much work and generally being a bastard, blame Julie for trying to be helpful and just stressing you out, blame me for not looking after you better, blame Seth for ragging you…'
'I'm not talking about physical blame Sandy,' she said, withdrawing from his embrace and letting her exhausted body sink onto the sand. 'There are hundreds of reasons why it was my fault; I worked too hard, I didn't rest, before I knew I was drinking wine, champagne, coffee, I let myself get stressed, I argued with my dad, I didn't take the age risk seriously, but none of those matter. It was fate that makes it all my fault.'
'I don't understand,' Sandy murmured, squatting down beside her.
'I know you don't!' she snapped, desperate anger in her still-teary eyes, 'and I can't explain, I can't tell you why because…because…' she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, 'because it'll hurt you and you really will hate me.' With that, her resolve broke again and she buried her head in her arms.
Her husband gazed at the forlorn figure beside him and longed to hold her and make everything right with the world. But Kirsten's world was shattered and this time Sandy wasn't sure he could rebuild it the way it was before.
'Nothing you could ever say or do could make me hate you; I love you too much, so much.'
She turned wide blue eyes towards him and searched for the truth in his face, not trusting his words alone.
This wasn't his Kirsten Sandy thought suddenly. She didn't trust him, wasn't sure of his complete unconditional love. She looked young and vulnerable, not the professional Kirsten Cohen who was always in control. Part of it was the tearstained face free of makeup, the loose ponytail that held back her hair and her simple clothes, but her haunted eyes were the main sign. She was battling with old ghosts, frightened and alone.
'I love you,' his eyes told her and she slowly dragged her own away. She had to tell him but already the painful memories were choking her throat. There was no going back now; this revelation was going to change everything. Change the way her husband saw her. He didn't deserve this but he deserved to know. She should have told him long ago.
'There's a reason I lost that baby…' Kirsten paused and looked out across the dark expanse of empty ocean, 'it was fate…justice.'
Sandy didn't dare move, hardly dare breathe as Kirsten began to speak, hindered only by sobs that caused tears flood down her face again, and her shoulders to heave. Began to share with him the secret and the guilt she had carried for so long. Kirsten Cohen was finally letting go.
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Let's play hangman/
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